This is what they all tell me,
like I should be ecstatic,
reminding them of the one
I am suppose to replace.
Touching me calls to mind sex
with her. A bad memory,
they wince as if I'm caustic,
shriveling, coming undone,
within a mental carapace.
They stare, and their eyes reflect
the one I can never be-
the one who was pneumatic
and coiled her hair in a bun,
who did what they said with haste.
How can I remove this hex,
take form within make believe,
and turn the vague specific?
How can I make them see-one
person, right now, in my face?
